


Jogo Bonito

by fadingdreams



Category: Brazil - Fandom
Genre: Injury, brazilvscolombia, just random thoughts, neymar - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 20:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1955265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadingdreams/pseuds/fadingdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a football player, I have always had to play with some sort of pain. A twisted ankle, a sore back, an aching head; I learnt to bear it with a smile and in time that ability has served me well. </p>
<p>Today however, it did not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jogo Bonito

**Author's Note:**

> This is just basically something I wrote to take it off my mind. Theres no relationship or particular story, it's just my depiction of the event of neymars injury

The crowd was roaring. The closer we got to the finals, the louder they seemed in my ears. For most, this was a sure shot for Brazil. Colombia couldn’t hold a candle to us. I would however, be a fool to assume victory, and my heart beat hard in my chest regardless as we ascended the steps and into the glorious sun.  Our golden armor shone in the light and already I could feel the heat on my neck.  A perfect day for a perfect game, or so I thought.

As our team stood in a line, holding shoulders I felt such pride surge through me. I could see the cup in our hands already; it was such a clear image in my mind. I could see my son in the stands clapping and smiling at me and clapping excitedly. The audience, our fans, our supported were a sea of yellow, drowning out small patches of Colombian reds with their chants. As the national anthem started, the words fell off my lips like a religion. The crowd sang along with us, passion steeped in their voices, flags waving back and forth, painting the sky green in my eyes.  As the music faded away, the cries of support did not, Brazilians standing strong for the game that they believe in.

We jogged to the middle of the pitch, assumed our positions, and then the game was in play.

The play was a blur. I ran like my life depended on it, up and down the field, through defenders and attackers alike. My legs felt like they were going to fall off, but the adrenaline kept me going, numbing the pain. As a football player, I have always had to play with some sort of pain. A twisted ankle, a sore back, an aching head; I learnt to bear it with a smile and in time that ability has served me well.

Today however, it did not.

The ball was a magnet to my feet, lacing through my calves and knees, following me effortlessly. The field in front of me was empty, I had a clear shot. The crowd seemed to silence, and my sight turned amber. I pushed harder and ran faster, the goal was mine. This is what I was meant for.

Suddenly the breath fell out of my lungs in a gasp. The ball flew off my legs and out of my control. I was falling, the ground coming closer by the second. My body collided with the grass and pain exploded in my lower back. The agony caused my vision to turn black, spots bouncing back and forth in my eyes. The game continued around me but I could not scream, I couldn’t call for help. I tried to straighten my body but it felt like someone was stabbing a knife into my spine repeatedly. A snarl ripped from my throat as I tried to feel the point of injury. My legs were useless to me; I could feel nothing but the pain in that singular spot. It felt like years before someone was screaming above me for help. The grass was wet from the tears I was crying and medics were asking me about my pain level. I only had to say that I couldn’t feel my legs when they immediately called a stretcher onto the field.

They lifted me onto the stretcher and I bit down hard on the arm that covered my face. As I was carried out I sobbed not only in pain, but for the dream that was out of my reach. I heard the cries of my son as I left the pitch, following me down the empty corridor, echoing off the walls that were donned in the colors of my country.

 

 

 


End file.
